


What I Did To You

by Mrox



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bullying, F/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:16:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29658831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrox/pseuds/Mrox
Summary: Laine has spent most of her adult life trying to forget the agony of high school. She worked hard at it and is now a successful, confident professional even if her social life needs a little work. But when the world ends, and she gets stuck back in Georgia with her best friend Andrea, she'll have to deal with the past she tried to escape.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! This fic will be quite a bit shorter than my last, at just 11 long-ish chapters. Like before, this will closely follow the plotlines from Seasons 1 and 2 and requires familiarity with the show since I won't rehash most of the action scenes. In fact, parts of the story will skim pretty briefly over what happens in the show. Hope you enjoy it!

[ ](https://ibb.co/20zBTNN)

"Honestly, we’ve got to do something. We’ve been sitting here for over 12 hours with no movement in sight. All these people are clearly upset, and I’m worried it’s going to get ugly.” I turned to Andrea, who was behind the wheel, but she didn’t seem to hear me and continued fiddling with the radio dial. It had been broadcasting the same message for several days but had suddenly gone dead about 30 minutes ago. 

I looked back at Amy for help, but she shrugged. She deferred to Andrea’s judgment at all times and while I admired the sibling bond, I needed an ally for this argument. “Fine,” I snapped. “I’m going to go see what I can find out.” I exited the car and started weaving my way through the stopped traffic to see if there were any friendly faces who had more information than we did. I hated Georgia and had hoped never to set foot in the state again, but this societal meltdown had forced my hand.

I hadn’t gone more than a few hundred yards when a fight broke out between some men and I had to jump out of the way to avoid being hit. I stumbled, clumsy at the best of times, and was rescued from falling on my ass by an older man wearing a fishing hat. “Whoa there! Don’t need anybody getting hurt,” he exclaimed as he helped me regain my footing. “Thanks, and sorry,” I said, “I’m Laine.” 

“Dale Horvath,” he replied, shaking my outstretched hand. “Pleased to meet you, even under these circumstances. This is Glenn, and that’s T-Dog” here he gestured to the two younger men sitting next to him, “We just met a few hours ago but it looks like we’re all in the same boat.” 

“Pretty much,” I sighed. “Do you have any idea - ” I was cut short by the sound of jets overhead, and the shouting from the highway crowd in response. We watched as the planes flew toward the city, our brains struggling to process what we were seeing as we watched the explosions. 

All hell broke loose on the highway. It was a free for all, with folks running for their cars, grabbing stuff from other people, and dozens of fights breaking out. Dale grabbed my arm, “Where is your car?” he asked urgently, “you need to get somewhere safe!” I pointed back to where I’d come from. “Back there – my two friends are there too. I came up here to see if there was any news.” 

“I’ll go back with you,” Glenn said. “Nobody should be alone right now. Guys, I’ll be right back.” Glenn was right – I felt much better with him by my side as we wove our way through the chaos. Andrea was standing outside her door, straining to see through the crowd, and visibly relaxed when she saw me. “Holy shit Laine! I thought something had happened to you! This is absolutely insane.” I hugged her tightly and checked to make sure Amy was okay, then made quick introductions to Glenn and explained how I’d bumped into him and Dale. 

“Look, we’re going to take Dale’s RV up to a quarry nearby. Do you see that exit?” Glenn gestured to a sign that indicated it was a quarter-mile ahead. “Dale says off that is a little road that will take us there. We can stay out of this craziness and camp for a bit until we figure out what to do next. I know it’s a little creepy to ask you to come with three guys you hardly know, but I feel really nervous about leaving you in all this.” 

I looked at Andrea, who rubbed her temples anxiously and glanced at Amy. “Goddamn it! I don’t know what to do.” We had a brief wordless conversation with our eyes and she finally nodded, “Okay, we’ll follow you. I’ll drive up the shoulder to the exit, if you can wait there.” 

Glenn ran back through the traffic to Dale’s RV and we piled in, Andrea swearing under her breath as she cautiously pulled the car off to the side of the road and up the shoulder. A few other cars had the same idea and we slowly made our way to the exit. Dale’s RV was waiting at the bottom of the off-ramp and we followed it down a fairly hidden dirt road and up to a more open space that I assumed was above the quarry. 

Several other cars were also parked there, but we pulled in next to Dale and huddled in the RV discussing what had happened in the city. We were all a bit numb, in shock at what had transpired over the past few days, and our guard was clearly down but thankfully, Dale, T-Dog, and Glenn were all genuinely good guys. We got to know them the next morning over a breakfast of granola bars when we’d recovered a bit from the events of the night before. 

Dale was a widower with no children, who used to travel the country with his wife in the RV. He was thoughtful and articulate, always curious about what made people tick, and a born storyteller. Glenn had been living in Atlanta for a couple of years after moving from Michigan to go to college, and T-Dog was his roommate. 

Andrea and I were colleagues and best friends. We met in law school at UVA when she was a young lawyer guest lecturing for one of my civil rights classes and we ended up chatting afterward over drinks. We got an apartment together in my third year, when her roommate got engaged, and bonded over the fact that neither of us had much family around. My mother died in a car accident during my freshman year of college and my father had never really recovered from losing her. He had moved into an assisted living facility a few years ago with early-onset Alzheimer’s. 

Andrea and Amy’s parents had split up when they were younger, and Amy had bounced back and forth in bitter custody battles. Andrea was old enough that she was out of the house during most of it, but her stability became Amy’s refuge and the younger girl stayed at our apartment many weekends. 

After law school, I’d gotten a job in Charlotte and we were both passionate about our careers. We enjoyed arguing about various issues, often on opposing sides, but we were always willing to help each other craft airtight arguments on behalf of our clients. Andrea specialized in civil rights cases, and I worked for the government, representing child protective services in cases where they removed children from abusive homes. Amy was just 16 but had been staying with us when the outbreak began, and we were trying to get her home to her parents in Marietta. 

The quarry area was packed with cars initially, but quite a few of them eventually left, figuring they’d be better off at home or trying to find family. By the end of that day, we were down to about 30 people in a smattering of campsites. 

___________

The group just next to us was Shane, Lori, and Lori’s son Carl and they’d come up from the highway with Ed, Carol, and their daughter Sophia. Shane was a deputy sheriff and naturally took a leadership role. Lori was friendly though still shaken by the bombs, and we learned that her husband had recently passed away. Shane had been his partner and best friend and had gotten them out when their town became a feeding ground for the cannibals. 

Carol was sweet, as was Sophia, but Ed was absolutely awful and I was immediately wary of him. I spent every day reading reports about child abuse and other types of domestic violence and could spot the warning signs a mile away, not that Ed was trying to hide them. 

We spent much of the day figuring out what gear we had and managed to dig out an old tent from Dale’s RV that Glenn and T-Dog insisted they take, so their beds in the RV would be free. I let Andrea and Amy take those and put my sleeping bag and pad in the trunk of the Outback so I could have a little privacy. I was used to living with Andrea, but I’m an introvert and can only do so much social interaction before I need to shut myself up in my bedroom so I can have some solitude. The car would have to do. 

We ate dinner that night – canned stew from Dale’s stash – around Lori and Shane’s campfire. Dale’s natural easygoing nature had everyone smiling despite the circumstances. “Well, Shane,” Dale finally asked. “What do you think about this group? I haven’t had a chance to meet everyone yet, but I saw you doing the rounds.” 

Shane nodded and ran a hand through his hair before answering. “Most folks seem alright. Lot of ‘em been through some tough stuff. Jim and Jackie, across the way there, both lost their whole families, I think. Didn’t pry too much but they’re both pretty quiet. The Morales family seems nice, but I think they wanna keep to themselves. Couple a rednecks that I didn’ get to talk to much that might be a problem. Nothin’ I can’t deal with though, don’t you worry,” he reassured Lori who was looking nervous. 

Dale smiled, “I’m sure we’ll be just fine. There are quite a few of us here and I think that’s a really good thing. We need other people in a time of crisis.” We enjoyed the rest of the evening listening to Glenn and T-Dog tell embarrassing stories about each other and crawled into our sleeping bags thinking that this might end up being okay after all. 

________

I woke up with the sun and realized I needed to figure out some way to shield the Subaru’s windows beyond the light tinting. One of the adorable Morales kiddos was peering in at me and I waved to him before wriggling into my sleeping bag further to discreetly pull on clean clothes. 

I finger-combed my dark brown hair, which falls in loose curls at the best of times (read: with proper product and equipment) and looks like a small animal on my head at the worst of times (read: every morning, especially when sleeping in cars), and grabbed my toiletries kit. I stumbled down to the water and splashed my face, brushed my teeth, scraped my hair into a ponytail, and tried to wake up. 

By the time I got back, I could smell coffee coming from the RV and I knocked on the door. Dale greeted me cheerfully and pressed a cup of the aromatic brew into my hands, waving off my thanks. Amy was still sleeping, so Andrea and I relaxed in our camp chairs, enjoying the caffeine kick and the fresh air. 

We had just started discussing the whereabouts of folks we knew in Georgia who might be resources, when I heard a drawling, “Well, ol’ Merle here shoulda looked around sooner! Some mighty fine eye candy on this end of camp,” coming from behind me, and almost dropped my cup. Andrea rolled her eyes and flipped the speaker off, and his booming laugh rang out as he walked away. 

She looked back at me, ready to launch into our discussion again but stopped when she saw my face. “Oh my god, Laine? Are you okay? You’re white as a sheet!” The caffeine roiled in my stomach and I fumbled for my water bottle, taking tiny sips and trying to breathe through my nose. 

“Laine seriously, you’re scaring me,” Andrea said, and I saw Dale come out of the RV to check on us, probably drawn by Merle’s voice. I took a deep breath and pulled myself together, “I’m fine,” I said quickly. “Or at least I will be, but I can’t talk about it right now. I promise I’ll fill you in later, okay?” She nodded warily and leaned back just as Dale reached us. “Everything okay, ladies?” he asked, and we both smiled at him. “The coffee was amazing,” Andrea said, “exactly what we needed. I think we’re going to take a couple of granola bars and do last night’s washing down at the water.” 

We gathered all the dishes and headed down to the lake with Amy. Washing dirty dishes in cold water is miserable work, but I barely noticed it. My mind was racing, my stomach still uneasy, and my heart would not slow down, no matter how many breathing exercises I tried to do discreetly. Sophia and Carl came down to join us, and Amy started helping them look for skipping stones, so Andrea and I sat back against the slope and she grabbed my hand. 

“Look, I’ve known you for a very long time and been your roommate for seven years now. We’ve walked each other through some pretty tough stuff with work and with family, so I think I’ve seen you at your best and worst. But I have never seen you as shaken as you were back there when that guy came by. I mean, you weren’t even facing him, but you were stark white, and I thought you were going to break your coffee cup, you were holding it so tightly. What is going on?” 

I squeezed her hand, grateful for her support, but let go so I could pick a long blade of grass and begin peeling off strips nervously. “Okay, that guy who came by? I know him from . . . that little town I lived in at the end of high school. He didn’t hurt me or anything,” I said hurriedly, at the look on her face, “he was an ass, but usually just runs his mouth, or at least he did when I knew him. And I guess I just didn’t expect to ever see him again, so it threw me for a loop.” I couldn’t meet her eyes and she leaned forward until she was in my line of vision. “There’s more to it than _that_ , Laine. Some random guy you used to know doesn’t get a reaction like that.” 

I pulled my knees up, crossed my arms over them, and rested my head. “It’s . . . _fuck_ , as you know, I had some epically shitty high school experiences that I’d rather forget, and hearing him just brought them all back. I mean, he wasn’t at fault or anything, he’s much older than me and was just . . . peripherally involved. But I’ve really tried to put all that behind me, and in the midst of the whole world falling apart I couldn’t handle being reminded of it.” 

I finally looked at her and she pursed her lips, clearly deciding whether to grill me or let up. I’d talked about how awful high school was before, many times, so the story wasn’t farfetched. “I’m going to let that go for now, but at some point, I think you should tell me more. When you’re ready. And I need to know if you want me to keep that guy away or not.” I nodded vehemently. “Yes, please. I don’t want him to see me. I doubt he’d recognize me, but just in case.” Shane’s comment about “a couple of rednecks,” kept running through my mind, but I didn’t want to go there with Andrea unless I had to, and it could very well just be Merle and a friend.

That settled, we collected Amy, Carl, and Sophia and made our way back to the campsite. Shane and Lori had pulled their picnic table near ours, and Lori and Carol were sitting there chatting. Andrea and Amy and I joined them and decided it would be a good idea to pool resources when it came to food, hauling and boiling water, and cleaning dishes and clothing. Shane and Glenn were discussing a possible trip into Atlanta to see what had happened there, and maybe get some supplies so we made a list of what would be most useful. 

We decided that we should try to get one decent meal in a day, to make the food last, and rely on snacks for breakfast and lunch. I was pretty sure Ed had a bunch of MREs stashed away in their car, but he clearly didn’t want to share, and we didn’t want to put Carol in an awkward position, so no one brought it up. 

I knew there was a chance we could find wild mushrooms in the woods, with summer waning, so Andrea and I took a nice walk in the afternoon to scope it out. I found one decent porcini, avoiding her questions about how I knew what to look for, but that meant more were on the way, especially if we got a little rain. As we came back to the campsite, we saw a group gathered around Shane and I craned my neck to get a look at what was happening. Thanks to my usual clumsiness I tripped on a chunk of firewood and lost my balance, pitching toward the ground. 

“Shit!” I gasped, bracing myself for the fall, but someone grabbed my shoulders and pulled me upright before I hit the ground and I looked up into the face of the person I’d been worrying about since Merle Dixon opened his big mouth that morning. It had been over a decade, and we’d both grown up, but I would have known Daryl Dixon anywhere. I drank in his face, those same high cheekbones, sharp blue eyes perpetually narrowed, mouth held in a hard line. He was older, and had more scruff than the last time I’d seen him, but was still beautiful to me. 

He was staring at me in shock, hands still wrapped around my upper arms. “Lainey?” he asked incredulously. I couldn’t speak, just stared at him like an idiot with my fingers gripping the front of his shirt until he realized the whole group was watching and dropped my arms like they were on fire, taking a step back. There was an awkward silence until Merle Dixon broke it, clapping a hand on Daryl’s back and whooping a laugh. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Brainy Lainey the Ice Queen? In the middle of the fuckin’ apocalypse? I thought you got outta Georgia, sweetheart.” 

I reminded myself that I was no longer a painfully shy teenager who’d been bullied until she broke. I’d gotten the hell out of that town, I was a successful lawyer with a stellar reputation, and I had good friends. I plastered a smile on my face and avoided Daryl’s eyes. “Merle Dixon. Can’t say you’ve changed much.” Merle gave me a wink but Dale broke in. “Okay, hang on! You _know_ each other? I’ve gotta hear this story.” The rest of the group nodded, seemingly fascinated by our little reunion. 

“Oh, we just lived in the same town, when I was in high school,” I said lightly, hoping that would be enough. No such luck. “I think you can do better’n that sweetheart!” Merle crowed, clearly enjoying the discomfort that was radiating off of me and presumably Daryl, though I still couldn’t look at him. “Daryl and Lainey here were joined at the hip for a while! Ever’time I’d come around she’d be hangin’ out with him until one day she wasn’t. Whatever happened there, hmmm?” 

I was going to murder him while he slept. Except that he probably slept next to Daryl and I was planning to avoid _him_ at all costs. So I’d murder him in the woods, next opportunity I had. “You know how it is,” I said around the lump in my throat, “high school drama. Anyway, good to see both of you.” I skirted around the group to the RV and went inside, ignoring the eyes I felt boring into my back. 

I sat down at the table and rested my forehead on the cool laminate top, willing myself not to cry or hyperventilate. The door banged softly as someone entered the space and I felt Andrea’s arms wrap around me as she sat down. I couldn’t hold it together any longer and let myself cry for several minutes before sitting up and wiping my eyes.

Andrea fished around in one of the cupboards and came up with a bottle of cheap whiskey. “Dale thought maybe you’d need this,” she said, pouring a shot into a glass, and I wondered what my face must have looked like for him to realize that. I downed it quickly, grimacing at the burn, and she sat back down across from me. “Okay. Now, what happened with you and Daryl Dixon?” 


	2. Chapter 2

I ran my fingertip around the rim of my glass, which now held water, and waited for Andrea to respond. After a moment she exhaled dramatically and scrubbed her hands over her face. “Okay, let me get this straight. The boy you told me about who broke your heart in high school, the one you’ve never fully gotten over, the one who’s basically prevented you from being happy with _really_ great guys you dated . . . is _Daryl Dixon_?” 

I nodded mutely and she shook her head. “There are no words, Laine. I mean, he’s good looking in a _really_ rough sort of way but . . . you are like the polar opposite of him and his brother.”

“He is nothing like his brother,” I snapped instinctively, and she raised her hands in front of her, palms out. “Whoa. Okay, clearly there’s a lot to this.” She blew out another breath and chewed on her lip pensively. “Unfortunately, most of the times you opened up about this guy we were both sloshed so I’m having trouble remembering everything. You moved to town during your junior year, right? Like in the middle of it?” 

I nodded, “Yeah, my dad lost his job and my grandmother was sick. We moved to live with her for a while, so he could job hunt and we could survive on my mom’s salary. She had an old farmhouse on a few acres and at one point it was probably nice, but the area had gotten pretty depressed, so the schools were terrible and most of the people around there were struggling.” 

Andrea nodded, “And you hated it, right? Didn’t have any friends, everyone thought you were stuck up because you moved from a nicer area and got good grades. Except for this Daryl guy, who lived closer or something.” 

‘Didn’t have any friends’ was an understatement. I’d shown up my first day, a flannel over my favorite Weezer shirt, jeans, and Doc Marten boots, and hovered awkwardly in the doorway to my first-period class. “Ah, you must be Laine,” the teacher had said and turned to the small group who was still chatting amongst themselves. “Class, please give a warm welcome to our newest student, Laine Jones, recently relocated from Seattle.” 

I’d scanned the room for a friendly face but found none. The school was tiny, not even one-tenth the size of the one I’d come from, and almost all the kids had grown up together. “Go ahead and take a seat,” the teacher had said, gesturing at an empty desk toward the back. “Mr. Dixon, please remove your feet from Ms. Jones’ chair.” 

I’d avoided everyone’s gaze as I sat, pulled out a notebook, and tried to focus on the lecture and take notes. After a few minutes, a blonde girl to my left leaned into my line of vision and I looked up. “Nice outfit,” she said sarcastically. “I thought the whole Seattle grunge thing was over but apparently some people didn’t get the memo.” I flushed, but ignored her, even when she started throwing little balls of wadded-up paper at me, trying to hit my head. Several boys began snickering and I counted down the minutes until the class ended, only to find out that with so few students, I’d be spending almost every period with the same kids, ignoring insults and laughter at my expense. 

At my previous school, I was basically invisible, somewhat starved for friendship but never bullied. I got along with most of the students in my advanced classes and while we didn’t hang out outside of school, they were pleasant lunch companions. I was always at the top of my class and focused on my studies, and there were lots of like-minded kids. Here, not only was the work less challenging, my nerdiness stood out like a sore thumb. I’d never been able to resist answering questions, mostly because I felt bad for the teacher when no one participated, but that made me more of a target. Every time I raised my hand, someone would roll their eyes or mimic me behind my back. 

My history teacher took a particular liking to me and tried to intervene a few times, but that just made it worse whenever she wasn’t around, and I finally asked her to let it go. I’d gotten good at ignoring everything, and at that point, it was just talk and unkind laughter. Until Daryl.

“There was a trailer park that butted up to the back part of my grandmother’s property,” I told Andrea. “Her land was mostly wooded, and Daryl used to spend a lot of time outside. I didn’t have anything to do, so I would just take a book out there and read on a blanket. He kind of stumbled across me a few times and eventually, we started talking. He was my only friend. Like, _literally_ only friend, and he didn’t really give a shit that everyone else seemed to hate me. We ended up spending most of our time together, outside if it was nice and watching TV or doing homework if it was raining.” 

I smiled ruefully, “Not sure he’d really done homework much before I came along but he’s actually really smart and since I was a complete nerd he just ended up studying with me. And we’d wander around the shitty town, or he’d try to teach me to hunt. I’m crap at it – you know I trip over my own feet constantly – but it was fun, like an entire year where I actually had adventures and friendship, rather than just reading about it.” 

He’d always been quiet in class, tough enough that no one messed with him, but not particularly interested in joining in. He sat behind me in history that whole year, never saying a word until the second time we saw each other in the forest. “Y’always read out here?” he’d asked curiously, and I was so lonely I pushed my insecurity aside enough to blurt out, “Yes, have you ever read this one?” and offered him some of my chips while I rambled on about Jane Eyre. I was never sure why he’d stayed, but he ‘ran into me’ almost every afternoon after that and would stretch out on the blanket and eat my food while I read or talked his ear off, about everything from politics to family issues. By the time summer came, we were close enough to comfortably spend the whole day together, and he started showing me his hobbies.

If I closed my eyes, I could still feel the cool of the woods and Daryl’s warm hand holding my arm steady while I aimed the .22 rifle at the branch he’d indicated. I’d always tried so hard to concentrate, not to let his closeness distract me, to no avail. I could still smell him too, like freshly cut pine and cigarette smoke, and something that was just him. “And you were in love with him,” Andrea said bluntly, bringing me back to the present. 

I chewed on my lip. “Yeah. Which sounds stupid, since I was 17 and probably didn’t have the first clue what love was but . . . I cared more about him and was more attracted to him than I’ve ever . . . well, you know I’ve never had a relationship that lasted more than a few months.” 

“Yeah, I guess I just always figured that was because of your career. I mean, I’m in the same boat,” Andrea replied, “other than Michael. But I certainly thought I was in love with a couple of guys along the way. You never did?” I shook my head. “No. Never. And who knows if I was actually in love with Daryl, or just a hormonal lonely teenager who’d never really had a best friend, but either way, it was intense.” 

He was all I’d thought about, and it was my first real experience with any kind of sexual desire. I’d laid in my little twin bed exploring my body and bringing myself to orgasm for the first time (but definitely not the last) imagining him touching me, and I ached for him constantly. 

“And if I remember correctly, he didn’t feel the same way?” Andrea asked gently, and I shrugged, thinking of his lips on mine and his hand in my hair just before I messed it all up. “I think he had some feelings for me toward the end. But then we had this big fight. I did something that hurt him, and he was so, _so_ angry. I wanted him to know that I didn’t mean for it to hurt him . . . how much I cared about him, so I confessed that was in love with him. He just walked away, and then on Monday at school he was . . . he started being really mean. You know how high school is. I’d only had one friend, and when he turned on me the bullying ramped up even more. So it was really bad, the last half of my senior year.”

“What did you do that made him so upset?” Andrea pressed, and I shook my head. “I can’t tell you. I’m sorry, it’s just too private. And it doesn’t really matter. It was something that I felt I needed to do, and I didn’t intend for it to hurt him, but it did. Deeply. So even though he was mean afterward, I wasn’t really mad, you know? Because I knew _why_ he was doing it, that he had every reason to be furious. But I was really lonely and miserable, and I missed him so much it hurt to look at him. I left as soon as graduation was over and hoped I’d be able to avoid Georgia forever.” 

“Anyway,” I continued, wiping my eyes and trying to smile, “it turns out that running away from all that just meant I never fully dealt with it, even with therapy, and wasn’t prepared for that particular meeting. I’m guessing it was pretty obvious to everyone out there?” 

Andrea smiled at me sympathetically, “If it makes you feel any better, I think Daryl was caught off guard as much as you. He walked away as soon as you did, along with his brother, and his face when he saw you was . . . utter shock. Not something he got over either, I think.” 

I shook my head, “Andrea, he loathes me. I’m sure this is a nightmare inside a nightmare for him. We’ll just avoid each other, if he even stays.” I got up and splashed cold water on my face, trying to hide the signs of crying. “I think I’m going to go for a swim. Want to come?” We grabbed towels, but before we could exit the camper, I grabbed her wrist. “Just one more thing, and please don’t ask too many questions.” At her cautious nod, I continued, “don’t bring up my job around the group. They know I’m a lawyer, but if you can just help me deflect any more career questions, that would be great.” 

I knew she was dying of curiosity, but she just smiled and gave me a hug. “Of course. I think your job is ridiculously depressing anyway – happy to talk more about myself and how brilliant I am.” We were smiling when we left the camper, and those who were still standing around didn’t ask any prying questions. 

_______

A refreshing swim was exactly what I needed. We didn’t have our suits, but athletic shorts and t-shirts did the job just fine, and we laid out on the rocky beach afterward to dry in the sun. Amy had come with us, and I enjoyed listening to her bicker with Andrea, pushing any thought of Daryl Dixon far, far away.

As we were packing up to leave, however, he appeared at the end of the path up to camp. Andrea glanced at me worriedly, but I told her to go ahead, and that I’d be fine. She clearly felt protective of me and shot a glare in his direction before she and Amy left us alone on the beach. I couldn’t believe how much he affected me after all these years. Sure, sometimes when I got drunk and maudlin, I would wallow a little in the misery of my senior year, but I had found lots of success and happiness, and I’d told myself that Daryl was just a sad memory that my therapist really needed to stop bringing up.

I’d never been a coward, so I tried to look calm and unaffected, meeting his eyes without hesitation. His face had that blank mask he always wore after our fight, closed off and impassive, so unlike the boy I’d befriended. He held my gaze for a beat before speaking, and when he did his voice was more gravelly than I remembered, but still had that same drawl, rounding off the ends of his words and dropping any he didn’t find necessary. “Yer friend looks like she wants ta claw my eyes out,” he said bluntly, “how much does she know?”

I was glad I had quickly quashed any hope that he had wanted to try and patch up the gaping wound between us; clearly, he just needed to make sure I had kept my mouth shut. “I didn’t tell her why you hate me,” I said quietly. Something unreadable flashed in his eyes at that, but he just nodded curtly and walked back to camp. I pressed my hands against the sharp ache in my stomach and climbed the rest of the slope wondering if he’d stay.

Lori, Carol, and Dale were busy heating up cans of food over the fire and setting out mismatched plates and bowls. Andrea looked worried and I smiled at her to let her know I was okay. Lori gave me a quick hug when I reached them, and I could tell Andrea hadn’t given them any explanation for my earlier behavior. “Sorry about all that before,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant, “high school was pretty awful for me and I wasn’t expecting to run into a former classmate.”

“Is he someone we need to worry about?” Carol asked. “I mean, did he do something to you?” I shook my head quickly. “No, you definitely don’t need to worry about him. Merle will get under people’s skin if he’s like I remember, but Daryl will probably just ignore everyone.” They relaxed after that and Dale mercifully changed the subject so I could drop my guard.

I went to bed on the early side, after hanging some towels over the windows, and lay in the Subaru trunk cycling through the memories of the worst months of my life. Mostly it was the changes in his eyes – warm and crinkling at the edges in amusement, desperate and full of hurt and betrayal, and cold as steel. There had been something else when he first saw me today, shock probably, and then a slightly tempered, more mature version of the coldness I remembered.

I was sure that tomorrow I could shove down most of the memories and knit my confidence back together. Daryl and I didn’t have to interact, and we could go our separate ways as soon as this was all over, and never cross paths again.


	3. Chapter 3

I was right, to a certain extent, about being able to pull myself together. Daryl stayed away from camp a lot over the next few weeks. He spent a lot of time hunting and often brought back game that was appreciated by everyone. Merle did, in fact, get under everyone’s skin but he also got high every day and zoned out, so we didn’t have to deal with him. When Daryl was around in the evenings, they kept to themselves.

At the same time, it felt like he was everywhere I looked. His pickup, Merle’s voice, the sight of the latest animal he’d caught, and the faint whiff of cigarettes all reminded me of him and the thought that he could show up at any point kept me constantly on edge. I couldn't help observing him from afar a few evenings, cataloging the changes since we were kids. He was taller, his hair was darker, he was well-muscled instead of lanky, and had lost all of the laid-back demeanor he'd had when I first met him.

He’d returned with several rabbits one of the first days we were there and tossed them on a central table so he could dress them. Lori quickly sent the kids away so they wouldn’t have to watch, and Daryl yelled at Merle to come help. Merle halfheartedly obliged before a shit-eating grin split his face and he put the knife down and called out, “Hey Brainy Lainey – ya got pretty good at this back in the day. How ‘bout you pitch in a little, huh?” leaving me no choice but to awkwardly sit across from Daryl and go through the motions of skinning and gutting the game. 

After that, it was expected that we’d sit in silence, finishing our task as quickly as humanly possible, whenever Daryl brought fresh meat back since his brother would mysteriously disappear. I passed the time by plotting different ways to maim and torture Merle Dixon and studiously avoided any eye contact with Daryl. It had been well over 10 years since I’d done that task, but I found it was almost automatic, and if I forgot exactly where to make a cut, I just had to watch Daryl’s practiced hands. He could finish two for each of mine, which was always the case, but he never said a word to me, and we took turns washing up at the lake afterward so as to avoid more time together.

Mornings at the camp were spent helping the kids do some schoolwork, chatting around the campfire, and cleaning. There wasn’t much else to do, so I didn’t mind, but I did get annoyed with Shane after a while. He really liked to be in charge, but for him, that meant a lot of time coordinating what Glenn was going to get in the city or fiddling with his radio trying to pick up a signal. He really liked traditional gender roles, and while some of the guys were willing to help with the chores around camp, women were strictly prohibited from patrolling the woods. Dale was constantly “on watch”, which basically meant sitting on top of his RV with a rifle, keeping an eye out for anything that might be approaching.

It was annoying, but not worth the argument. I knew how to use a gun, but I didn’t have one and wasn’t particularly itching to go looking for one of those wandering corpses. Glenn, having made a few trips into Atlanta where there were thousands, was calling them “walkers” and we’d all picked it up. We didn’t see them at camp, though occasionally the men who patrolled the woods down closer to the road reported seeing one wandering around down there. Daryl and Merle had told everyone exactly how to deal with them early on, (“bullet, knife, or bolt to the fuckin’ brain,”) but most of us hadn’t had to actually do it.

The group seemed to have accepted my story about high school being tough, but I should have known Dale wouldn’t let it go so easily. We got along well and often found ourselves deep in discussion about books or history. One afternoon I sprawled out on the RV top next to him, enjoying the sun and he brought up the topic. “Are you sure Daryl wasn’t a bully to you in high school, or maybe an abusive relationship? You still clam up whenever he’s around and seem to sort of withdraw into yourself. And you two never say a word to each other even when you’re helping him with the game.”

I pulled my knees up under me, wrapping my arms around them tightly. “Daryl’s not a bully or an abuser,” I said carefully, “but high school was pretty much a living hell for me toward the end. I thought I was over it, but when I’m around him it’s like I’m that shy, awkward, 17-year-old social pariah who cries herself to sleep every night. It doesn’t help that all the ways in which I’ve measured success and growth – mostly my career and independence – have now been stripped away. I don’t have much to show for all these years without those things.”

Dale stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Old wounds can be hard to heal, that’s certain. Most of us are lucky enough to get to leave the ghosts of our youth behind. But I wonder if it would be good for you and Daryl to talk through all this. You’re both adults now, and surely capable of processing some of the past in a healthy way. He doesn’t seem like a bad guy now and might be able to provide some healing if you became friends. He probably feels terrible about how you were treated, and any part he had in it.”

I shook my head emphatically, “No, Dale. can’t really explain why that won’t happen, but it won’t. I’m sorry, I know you’re trying to help but I need you to let it go.” He nodded and changed the subject, and I breathed a sigh of relief.


	4. Chapter 4

Then came the day Merle Dixon went to Atlanta. Glenn was less than thrilled about taking folks with him, but Shane insisted we needed more supplies than Glenn could get on his own (though Shane didn’t offer to go himself). Merle volunteered at the last minute, and no one could think of a reason to say no. Andrea had also insisted on going, and taking her revolver, which she didn’t know how to use. I loved her, but she was often stubborn to the point of irrationality, and Shane’s constant refusal to let her help with protection was becoming a very sore spot.

Amy and I fretted the entire day, especially when they didn’t get back on time. Amy was frantic, and I tried to distract her with card games and swimming, to no avail. When the truck finally pulled in, I almost cried with relief. The Grimes family reunion was a total shock, and I wondered how Shane was going to handle the new development. I hadn’t pressed Lori for details on how her husband had died, but it appeared that Shane had some kind of hand in the misinformation she’d been given.

It took a bit before I realized Merle hadn’t come back, and the whole story didn’t come out until later. I felt sick, thinking of him alone on that roof in the hot sun with walkers all around. And Daryl . . . Daryl was going to lose his shit. Merle was 10 years older, so he had only been around occasionally when we were friends, but they had a trauma bond that was complicated and unhealthy. Merle must have protected Daryl some of the time but had clearly let him down at others, and Daryl had generally chosen the opposite path as Merle, for good reason. But Merle was often able to convince him to go along with some scheme or to cover for his behavior, and I knew there was genuine affection there somewhere.

I was pretty sure I liked Rick, or what I’d seen of him. He accepted responsibility for Merle and didn’t ask anyone else to handle Daryl. When Daryl lost his shit, as I’d predicted, Rick more or less handled it calmly and offered his help. My overactive tear ducts sprang into action when I saw Daryl’s walls briefly come down in grief, and I was offering to go before I quite realized what I was doing. “No, and stop blubberin’,” Daryl bit out, before Rick could say anything, and brushed past me, heading for the truck. Rick looked at me curiously, and I shrugged. “I probably wouldn’t be a lot of help, but I’m willing if you need an extra set of hands.” He smiled and clapped my shoulder but said they’d be fine with the four of them.

Andrea was aghast that I’d even thought about risking my life for Merle Dixon. “Laine, you hate him! You’ve said so several times, and he’s a total ass to you, always calling you ‘Brainy Lainey,’ like we’re all still in third grade. Why on earth would you risk your life to go looking for him?” I didn’t feel like explaining that those nicknames were almost flattering compared to what I'd been called at school, and Merle knew it. Teasing and niggling at folks was a part of his nature, but he was definitely taking it easy on me. “He’s a person, Andrea,” I finally said. “He doesn’t deserve to die like that. Just let it go.”

It was agony waiting for them to get back, and when darkness fell, we all expected the worst. I didn’t have an appetite for dinner and excused myself to lie down in the RV. My thoughts cycled from scenario to scenario in the city, only broken when Amy came to check on me. I’d reassured her that I was fine, and she headed back out when I heard her bloodcurdling scream. I grabbed a knife from Dale’s small kitchen before flinging open the door. The monster was literally ripping open her neck and I didn’t have time to think more than “to the fuckin’ brain,” before plunging the knife in as hard as I could. The walker fell instantly, knife embedded in its skull, and I grabbed Amy just as Andrea got to us. We tried desperately to stop the bleeding as screams and gunshots rang out around us, but she was gone in minutes.

Andrea couldn’t move, frozen over the body of her sister, and I couldn’t watch. I stumbled toward the path to the lake needing to get away, needing to wash Amy’s blood off, anything to push away the look on Andrea’s face. Amy was her whole life – the reason she’d ended her relationship with Michael, the reason she’d turned down job offers in New York, the reason she paid for the third bedroom in our apartment. She’d spent her whole life protecting Amy from the bitter feud between their parents, and now she’d been unable to physically keep her alive when it mattered most.

I was almost to the slope when a hand grabbed my arm and yanked me back. I spun around, half expecting to see a rotting face but was met with hard blue eyes two inches from mine. I was off-balance, leaning against his chest and he didn’t let go of my arm. “What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?” he growled. I could barely speak, tears running down my face, and I just gestured to where Andrea and Amy lay. “I can’t . . .” his face softened slightly but he didn’t let go. “You can’t go runnin’ off, Lainey. There’s more a them in the woods.” When I didn’t move, he tugged me gently toward the fire, dropping my arm as soon as my feet began to move.

Dale wrapped me in a hug and let me cry against him, and Daryl disappeared into the darkness but the feel of his hand on my arm lingered. We were all in shock and spent the next several hours hugging those who had survived, crying over those who didn’t, and watching in horror as more walkers staggered out of the trees periodically and had to be eliminated.


	5. Chapter 5

By dawn, it appeared that the coast was at least temporarily clear, and we began gathering our dead. I’d tried to talk to Andrea several times, but she was just in shock bent over Amy and I don’t think she even heard me. Rick filled me in on what had happened with Merle when I asked, and Daryl seemed to be on the edge of totally losing it. I couldn’t entirely blame him, but when he started talking about shooting Amy in the head, I sat protectively in front of the sisters just in case he made good on his threat. He glared at me briefly before shaking his head and turning away.

When Andrea finally had to put Amy down, I saw it completely shatter whatever was left of her. I pulled her into my arms and let her cry but there was nothing I could do to make it better. We were both too exhausted with grief to weigh in on the discussion about the CDC and sat numbly in the RV as we made our way into the city.

Jim’s bite had shaken us all, and there was a tiny part of me that was glad Amy hadn’t had to suffer as much as him. By the time we left him under the tree, I was beginning to come out of the fog and start thinking about what we might find in Atlanta. When we finally arrived and saw the piles of corpses and the staggering walkers I realized that this really was an apocalypse. Andrea and I had been talking through what we could do while “waiting it out,” but that was a foolish idea now that I saw the level of devastation with my own eyes. We were here for the foreseeable future, in this wasteland, and I couldn’t quite get my brain around it.

The CDC gave me a reprieve though, and I happily scarfed down the first good meal I’d had in days. Things had been running short at camp, and we were all ravenous. I kept my distance from Daryl at dinner, but had a couple of glasses of wine, and snagged a bottle to take back with me to my room. I was starting to feel guilty about avoiding him, especially since I prided myself in not backing away from difficult situations.

A hot shower had never felt so good, but I could hear Andrea sobbing in the stall next to me, and I felt completely helpless. I dried my hair with a towel and pulled on clean yoga pants and a t-shirt before browsing the small library for a new book and chatting with Lori. “How are you doing?” she asked, “I don’t think I checked in with you after everything that happened, and I know you were close to Amy.” I nodded and blinked back tears. “I’m okay, I guess. A little numb, and I think I’m still coming to terms with the way everything’s changed. I was still sort of thinking we’d get rescued or something – that there would be an end to this.”

Lori smiled sadly. “I know what you mean. Seeing the city really made it all real for me. We all got kind of thrown in together by ending up at that campsite, and now it looks like we’re in it for the long haul, needing to trust each other. I’m just not sure how it’s all going to work. And I’ve been meaning to ask about you and Daryl. It sounded like you had a bit of history, and I want to make sure you’re comfortable being in close quarters with him like this.”

“I am,” I reassured her. “He’s . . . Daryl is a good person, actually. I know he’s rough on the outside, and he flies off the handle quickly sometimes, but he hasn’t had it easy, and losing his brother was really hard on him. We both did some things as kids that I wish we hadn’t, and maybe we won’t ever be friends, but I trust him with my life, and with the group.” 

I left her with that and headed back to my room, passing a drunk Shane in the hallway. He grabbed my arm and swayed slightly as he looked at me, “You seen Lori?” he asked, and I tried to slide out of his grasp. “I think maybe you should head to your room, Shane,” I said, confident that Lori did not want to talk to him. His grip grew tighter around my wrist, and he pulled me closer. “I didn’t ask what you thought I should do,” he said in a hard voice, “I asked you where the _fuck_ she is.”

“There a problem?” Daryl asked from a few feet away, and Shane dropped my wrist. “No,” he said shortly and walked toward the library. I debated whether or not to follow and decided Lori could handle herself. “Thanks,” I muttered to Daryl, who shrugged. “Guy’s an asshole,” he said by way of explanation. I nodded and realized our rooms were next to each other when he disappeared through his door.

I debated finding Andrea but had seen Dale headed toward her room, so I tried to focus on my book and ended up finishing the bottle of wine before I realized it. I was acutely aware that Daryl was on the other side of the wall and suddenly found myself knocking on his door, fueled by liquid courage and the need to face my fears after the conversation with Lori. He didn’t say a word when he opened it and didn’t seem particularly surprised, but his blank mask was in place and I almost lost my nerve.

“Can I come in?” I asked nervously and he nodded, stepping out of the way. I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, putting plenty of space between us. “I just wanted to say a couple of things and I hoped maybe you’d listen,” I began, trying to slow my heart rate. He leaned against the wall opposite me and crossed his arms but didn’t argue, and I noted that he’d almost finished the whole bottle of Southern Comfort he’d started at dinner and this was probably as relaxed as I’d ever find him.

“I know I said it before, ages ago, but I need to say it again since it’s clear you harbor a grudge toward me. I didn’t mean to hurt you that day – I was honestly trying to do the right thing. I was . . . I mean fuck, Daryl, I was 17 and I didn’t know what to do!” I’d planned to be more eloquent, but the wine had gone to my head quickly and I couldn’t find the right words. He tilted the bottle back to his lips again, never breaking eye contact, before responding. “I ain’t holdin’ a grudge.”

I furrowed my brow in confusion. “Then why . . . I mean, you haven’t said two words to me other than to make sure I hadn’t told Andrea . . .” He shrugged, “Didn’ have anythin’ to say. We ain’t friends.” My stomach twisted at that, and I blurted out, “Don’t you want to be? We were . . . good friends back then. Or at least I thought so.” He rubbed a hand over his face and looked away. “Yeah, I guess. Just . . . didn’ really know how ta fix it. I was -” his eyes cut back to me, “I shouldn’a done all that shit.”

It wasn’t an apology, but I knew it cost him something to say it. I blinked away tears that threatened to escape and nodded, “I didn’t actually blame you. But it was hell for me those last few months.” He dropped the mask and I could see guilt in his eyes. “Yeah. An’ I kept bein’ more an’ more of an asshole tryin’ ta get you to hate me.” 

I didn’t want to go any further down memory lane. “There’s something I need to tell you, in the spirit of full disclosure,” I said, steeling myself. “I’m a lawyer now, went to law school after getting my undergrad at UVA.” He shrugged, “Ain’t surprisin’, knowin’ what you were like, and I heard Andrea talkin’ about meeting ya at law school.”

“Right,” I continued, “but I don’t think she mentioned that I work for child welfare. I represent them in cases where kids are removed from . . . basically I prosecute parents who aren’t safe with their kids.” Something flashed in his eyes before the mask slammed back into place and I almost flinched. “Still tryin’ ta save me?” he sneered, slamming the empty bottle down on the table. “No, not you,” I said, shaking my head, but he was walking toward me, eyes cold and angry, and he didn’t stop until he was just a few inches from my face, my back against the door, close enough that my hand flattened against his sternum instinctively.

“So ya didn’ learn to stay the fuck outta people’s business, even after all that,” he breathed, and I couldn’t look away. “What the fuck did ya think you were gonna fix when ya made that call?” He was so close I was having trouble thinking, and the alcohol wasn’t helping, my fingers curling in his shirt instead of pushing him away. “I was . . . I didn’t know what was going to happen. I just knew I didn’t want you to get hurt anymore and I had to tell someone. I thought – I thought maybe you could stay at my house or something until the end of school. I promise I didn’t realize how it worked!”

He nodded, and I thought maybe we’d move past it but then he tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes again. “And now? Would ya do it again, now that ya know exactly how it works?” My heart sank, and I searched for an answer that would let us move past this but came up empty-handed.

I shook my head weakly, knowing he wouldn’t buy my reasoning if I told the truth, and he smirked, leaning his head further in so his lips brushed my ear. “Yer a shit liar, Lainey,” he whispered. “I always knew exactly what ya thought – it’s written all over yer face. Everything ya think, everything ya want . . .” he trailed his mouth down the column of my neck as he spoke, lips moving against my skin and I closed my eyes, hardly breathing.

“Ya think I couldn’ tell, ever’time I touched ya, what ya were hopin’?” His hands brushed against my ribs as he trailed them up my sides, and I felt myself arching slightly into him without meaning to. His thumbs ran over my nipples lightly, and I’m pretty sure some kind of sound escaped my lips because he laughed softly and pulled away. I blinked away the haze of lust and saw that he had backed up several steps and was shaking his head at me, eyes cold again. “Ya always that easy?” he drawled, and I felt his disdain like ice water down my spine.

My cheeks burned and I turned to go but stopped and gathered what I could of my dignity for a final look back where he stood, eyes burning. “Still trying to make me hate you?” I asked softly, and slipped through the door, heading directly to my room where I could cry myself to sleep and pretend not to hear the glass breaking next door.


	6. Chapter 6

I was almost as hungover as Glenn the next morning and remembered why wine is a terrible thing on which to get drunk. I should have dreamed of Daryl’s cold expression and cruel words but instead, I’d woken up desperately aroused, vague memories of hands and lips and tongues and heat slipping away with the dawn as I cursed my dysfunction for the millionth time.

He wandered in late, thankfully, as Jenner was about to show us his video, and I was able to avoid him through all the chaos as we tried to figure out what was going on. By the time Jenner opened the doors I was fully focused on Andrea, who had decided to stay. “Please don’t do this,” I was begging, trying to grasp her hands, but she just pulled them away and curled up tighter. Dale was right next to me and took over when Daryl pulled me back toward the exit. I struggled to get free, but he practically flung me through the doors and didn’t let go of my wrist regardless of how much I begged.

I had no idea what he was thinking, and no time to process any of it before Rick threw the grenade and he was pulling me toward his truck. “I can’t leave her!” I was sobbing, still trying to get free, but he turned me to look back at the building, an arm wrapped tightly around my waist, and I saw Dale and Andrea make it out. A few seconds later he pulled me behind the truck and the ground shook with the implosion. I was curled against his chest, both arms wrapped around me and his chin on my head until the noise faded, and he stood up quickly, striding toward his door without looking back.

I grabbed Andrea as she reached me and helped her into the RV with Glenn’s help. She was in shock, and I held her tightly and rubbed her back, unsure of what else to do. Focusing on her helped me push futile thoughts about Daryl from my mind even after we consolidated vehicles and we ended up crammed in with Shane and T-Dog.

When we reached the traffic snarl, I was glad for an excuse to get out of the stifling RV and rummage through cars. I dropped under an SUV next to Lori and Carol when the herd came through, helpless to do anything for the kids trembling just a few feet away. I breathed a sigh of relief when the highway emptied and ran back to the RV to check on Andrea just as Sophia ran into the woods.

___________________

It had been a long night in the RV, between Carol’s desperate sobs and Andrea’s refusal to talk to me about what she was going through. We’d gotten each other through a lot over the years, but this was so deeply personal that she couldn’t let me in. Dale was trying hard too, but less familiar with how she worked than I was, and I knew she was going to snap at him soon. 

It didn’t help that they’d taken away her precious gun, and while I wanted her to feel safe, part of me agreed that she shouldn’t have it in her current state. I didn’t think she was going to use it on herself, but she might shoot without thinking it through, and end up bringing a herd on us like the day before. 

Daryl didn’t speak to me or even look at me, and I tried to focus on Andrea and on helping Carol keep it together. I remembered the very basics of tracking, but I’d never gotten good at it and I figured if he wanted my help he’d ask.

I had heard Andrea scream and was running toward her when Maggie appeared out of nowhere on the horse and Daryl yanked me back so I wouldn’t get trampled. It felt like everything was falling apart further, with each day. The attack, Amy, Jim, Jacqui, Andrea, Sophia, now Carl. 

I couldn’t handle another sleepless night in the RV again and found a station wagon whose trunk could hold me, notifying Dale of my plan before slipping away. He didn’t seem happy, but neither of us could get through to Andrea and I think he could tell I needed some space. Just as I was drifting off I heard her talking to Daryl as they wound their way through cars. “. . . said she was going to sleep in a car tonight,” Andrea was saying. I kept quiet, unable to handle a discussion with either of them at the moment. 

“I still don’t understand what happened with you,” she continued, and I cursed her silently. “She says you were really mean, but that she did something terrible and she somehow doesn’t hold your behavior against you. And believe me, I’m all about moving past dumb stuff we did in high school, but I can’t quite accept moving past it if it hasn’t actually stopped. Are you still being an ass?” Daryl didn’t answer and I could picture the frustration that was likely on her face. “Whatever, I don’t have the bandwidth for this anyway. Let’s just try and find that little girl.” They moved past me, and I said a silent prayer that Andrea would indeed let it go. 

__________

When I looked back on our time at the Greene farm, it seemed like a dream. There was horror, of course, with the walkers in the barn, Carol’s grief, and the issue with Randall, but it was all surrounded by idyllic pastoral landscapes and warm autumn sunshine. Chickens scratched in their pens, horses whinnied softly in their stalls, and I spent most of my days working with Patricia and Beth around the farm. 

I was in the farmhouse when I heard a gunshot and shouting, and came out on the porch to find Daryl being dragged toward the house, blood covering his side and his face. I tried to follow Herschel inside but was pushed out by Patricia who said they needed space. 

Andrea came sprinting up and grabbed me, asking if he was going to be okay. “I don’t know! I don’t know! They said he was shot!” I was somewhat hysterical, thinking of Carl’s gunshot wound, and she shook me slightly. “I know, but Rick said it just grazed his head. It was . . . it was me. I shot him.” That snapped me out of it and I stepped back slightly. “What? How the fuck did you shoot _Daryl_?” She rubbed her face with her hands and shook her head. “He must have gotten hurt in the woods because he was stumbling and covered in dirt and blood. He looked like a walker and I didn’t want any of them getting close, so I took the shot.” 

I could tell she felt terrible, but I was beside myself. “I told you it was a bad idea for you to have a gun!” I snapped. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, and you might have killed someone!” She put her hands on her hips and looked at me squarely. “I _know_ , and I feel terrible. But you need to take a hard look at why you’re so upset about this. If you want to move past whatever happened with him, you need to do that and let him go. If not, you’ve got to talk to him and figure out your shit.” 

She walked away with Dale, who had caught the tail end of the conversation, and I sank down onto a porch chair. She was right, really, but I didn’t know how to move in either direction with Daryl. I’d spent 13 years trying to put it behind me and it hadn’t worked even though I’d been hundreds of miles away. And yet, after our conversation the other night I knew he didn’t want to try and work things out between us. If I pushed him, he’d just lash out again and give me more cruel moments to replay in my head. 

It didn’t matter at the moment, since Daryl was laid up and I could avoid him completely. I did peek my head in after Carol took him some dinner, just to reassure myself that he was okay, but slipped out as soon as he saw me. 


	7. Chapter 7

I was frustrated that the group chose to go work on target practice the next day, rather than hunt for Sophia without Daryl. I could already shoot just fine, so I grabbed a rifle, a map, and some water and gave tracking my best shot. I found the spot in the creek where Daryl said he’d found her doll and saw quite a few signs of walkers around the creek, but nothing that indicated Sophia had been there. That meant very little, considering my tracking skills, but at least I felt like I’d done my best. 

Daryl was sitting by the fire when I came back, so I gave Dale my gun and went to talk to him. I figured I owed him an update and an apology for the fact that no one else went out. “I found that spot at the creek,” I said, tucking my hands in my pockets to keep myself from fidgeting. “There were lots of what looked like those shuffled walker tracks around, but I didn’t see any signs of Sophia. I’m pretty shit at tracking though, so who knows.” I thought his eyes softened slightly, but I wasn’t looking too closely. “Anyway, I think it was fucked up that everyone else went to the shooting range, just because you weren’t there.” 

I spun on my heel and headed quickly to the RV, banging the door behind me before he could respond. It was empty for once, and I washed my face in the sink, grateful that the Greenes had running water that Dale could tap into. I had just pulled the towel from my face when the door opened and Daryl stepped in, taking the stairs slowly while holding his side. “You shouldn’t be moving around,” I said, eyeing his bandages, and he gave me an exasperated look. “ _You_ shouldn’ be goin’ out by yerself. Fuckin’ stupid.” 

That one rolled off me and I crossed my arms, leaning on the counter to look at him. “I took a gun and used it to put down the only walker I saw out there. I do remember how to shoot, you know.” There was definitely amusement in his face now, and he leaned on the back of the passengers’ seat as he regarded me. “I don’ remember you bein’ a great shot,” he countered, and I flushed under my tan. “Well, maybe you don’t remember everything correctly,” I managed. 

He raised an eyebrow and shrugged but didn’t seem angry. “Maybe not,” he replied, stepping heavily out of the RV and I let out a long breath. That was progress, at least. Not exactly easygoing camaraderie, but it seemed like something we could get to. Later, once we’d learned about Sophia and Daryl had taken himself further away to be angry alone, I wished I’d tried harder to fix things right then. 

Dale had become my rock and my solace in all the drama. We still enjoyed discussing our favorite novels, and I loved hearing about his travels with his wife. He’d encouraged me to patch up my friendship with Andrea, and while things were still a little strained, we were okay. She didn’t bring Daryl up again, and I was grateful. 

I was doubly grateful for Dale when everything happened with Randall. We were in complete agreement that he needed to be given a second chance and eventually convinced Andrea as well. The discussion in the living room where Rick overruled us was devastating, and Andrea and I leaned against each other as Dale took a walk, unable to fathom the place we’d come to, where killing another human being was so accepted. 

We were trying to find him to tell him the good news after the aborted execution when I heard Daryl yelling for help. The sight of Dale bleeding out was almost as bad as Amy, and he was suffering more. I couldn’t watch as Daryl pulled the trigger, and I held Andrea as she sobbed into my shoulder when they carried his body away. Eventually, Andrea pulled away from me and stumbled into the RV, shutting the door in my face. It must have brought up all the Amy memories too vividly for her, so I walked away and tried to find a quiet space to grieve. 

The farm was too open; too empty at the edges, and too full of people at the center. I couldn’t look at Dale’s body, which had been covered with a sheet, and my feet took me just past where our tents were set up, far enough that no one would bother me. I stopped a good distance before I reached where Daryl had set up his tent and leaned against a tree in the dark. I’d kept myself from breaking down earlier, wanting to be strong for Andrea, but the horror and utter waste of it all crashed over me and I buried my face in my hands, keeping my sobs as quiet as possible. 

I didn’t hear him approach, but I recognized his smell before I felt him. I was upset enough that I didn’t question why he wrapped his arms around me and let me cry into his shirt, or stop myself from breathing him in. As my sobs finally subsided, he loosened his hold slightly, and slipped his hands into my hair, tilting my head up so he could see my wet face in the moonlight. The branches overhead threw shadows over him, so I couldn’t read his expression, but I was too exhausted to do anything but look at him openly. His right thumb traced my jaw gently, and then he pulled me into him briefly again with his hand around the back of my neck, kissed the top of my head, and walked away. “Go back ta camp,” he threw over his shoulder, “ain’t safe by yerself.” 

_____________

Not 24 hours later, before I'd had time to process the experience with Daryl, I found myself with Lori and T-Dog racing away from the burning, walker-infested farm. When we heard Daryl’s bike engine, a little piece of me clicked back into place, but when we realized Andrea hadn’t made it to the highway, I refused to leave. 

“I’m going back,” I announced. “I can’t just leave her if there’s any chance she made it. I’ll find a car that works and go by myself, and then meet you all somewhere safer.” Daryl snorted, “No fuckin’ way – I’ll go an’ you head out with everyone else.” There wasn’t time for an argument, so we went together, and Herschel described a strip mall where we could meet up a few miles away, well off the highway. 

We wound our way back to the farm in the thin morning light, and I steeled myself for what would find. Daryl pulled off the road at the main gate and shut off the engine. I slipped off the bike and stared at the remains of what had felt like home a few hours ago. The barn was a black smoking ruin, with the roof and one side caved in. The house was upright, but the windows and doors had broken under the weight of walkers, and a few of them were still impaled on splintered wood. The porch had collapsed under their weight, and the fences were flattened. Daryl pulled binoculars out of his saddlebags and scanned the yard at the walkers that were still roaming. 

“Don’ see ‘er,” he said after a moment, and I didn’t know whether to feel relieved. “I can’t . . . how can I just leave?” I asked desperately. “What if she ran into the woods and is lost? What do I do? She’s been like a sister to me and I can’t abandon her!” Daryl scanned the yard one more time, but the walkers had heard the noise of the bike when we pulled up and a few were starting to wander our way. 

“Y’ain’t abandoning ‘er,” he said, looking at me steadily. “Y’came back and we’ll keep lookin’. We’ll drive that road that circles the woods and maybe she’ll hear the bike. But if we don’ find her, ya keep goin’. That’s what you’d want for her, right?” After a moment I nodded, and got back on the bike, distantly registering that I’d sworn to Daryl all those years ago that I’d never ride on a motorcycle, especially without a helmet. 

We drove the road that circled the woods and stopped periodically so I could call for Andrea, but there was no sign of her and eventually, I had to resign myself to leaving her behind for now. We met up with the others at the strip mall and were able to grab some blankets and coats and a little food from what was left in the ransacked stores. 


	8. Chapter 8

Despite Rick’s confessions about Shane, and the obvious initial urge by some in the group to leave, we coalesced fairly quickly into a functional unit, moving from place to place for shelter and food as the days grew colder. Daryl and Rick became a team, focused on protection and leadership, and relying on each other’s counsel. I found T-Dog to be a good partner for taking down walkers, and I got better with my knife. I didn’t quite understand Lori’s complicated feelings toward Shane and Rick, but I wasn’t the world’s expert on relationships by a long shot, so I reserved any judgment. 

I looked for Andrea everywhere, of course, but we had to move further and further out, as herds became more and more common and cut us off, and I knew there was little chance of finding her. I wasn’t religious but found myself praying for her safety every night before bed, and pushing her out of my mind the rest of the day so I could focus on staying alive, staying warm, staying fed. 

Daryl didn’t talk to me much, but the coldness with which he used to view me had vanished, and we worked well together when we had to. When the nights got colder, we all huddled together in a circle, sharing body heat, but I was careful not to be next to him. I couldn’t forget his cruel teasing at the CDC on top of the way he’d tortured me at school, even after everything we’d been through since then, and I kept my guard up despite his civility. 

I agreed with Rick that there had to be a place out there that we could make into a home. Maggie and I brainstormed a list of potential sites, and we gradually worked our way to some gated communities she knew of, all of which appeared to have been overrun at some point – the gates were broken down and the houses half-collapsed. We were running out of ideas quickly, and it seemed like the herds were driving us back toward spaces we'd already been.

Daryl was on watch one night when I slipped out the door of our temporary resting spot and leaned on the wall near him. In his usual way, he didn’t ask me what I was doing, but I could feel his eyes on me in the dark. “I was thinking about the science of all this,” I began, and he snorted softly in amusement. 

“Laugh if you want, but I think it’s relevant,” I continued, “because they’ve changed since all this began. They’re decomposing – it’s a lot easier to get through the skull these days – and that means that at some point they’re going to completely disintegrate. And I’ve noticed that they’re slower and they don’t go uphill very well anymore, probably because their muscles are breaking down so much. So I was thinking, maybe we should head north, to the mountains. Maybe we go back to - ” 

“No,” Daryl cut me off. “Not there.” I opened my mouth to continue making my point, but he held up a hand. “Yer right about the mountains,” he conceded, “and I’ll talk to Rick about it. But there ain’t nothin' in that town that ain’t in a thousand other ones, 'cept bad memories. An’ I know some other areas pretty well up there. You remember there was a fancy Scientology boardin’ school somewhere northwest of us?” 

A thrill went through me at that. “Yes!” I whispered excitedly. “That could be perfect! Do you know where it is?” He shook his head, “Not exactly, but I think I know the closest town and there might be signs fer the school there.” I tugged my blanket tighter around my shoulders and bounced slightly on my toes, keeping warm and thinking about what this could mean. The school had been rumored to be at the end of a winding country road at the highest elevation, walled off and made of stone, like an old country estate. They’d supposedly had stables and tennis courts and swimming pools, mythical for kids growing up in trailer parks like Daryl’s. Apparently, children of famous actors had attended there, so it had been kept fairly secluded and they didn’t advertise the location.

If it was out there, it would have room for all of us with plenty to spare. If my theory about walkers was right, they’d be few and far between up there. The downside would be the distance from places we could scavenge, but it was possible there were still resources at the school, and if we had space, we might be able to raise some food ourselves. 

Daryl laughed quietly, breaking into my musings, and I turned to see what was funny. “You used to do that,” he said, “when ya got excited. S’why ya were shit at hunting. Couldn’ keep still.” I realized I was scrunching my toes and rocking up on them a little absentmindedly while my fingers worried the ends of the blanket, and I stopped immediately. The tension ratcheted up, and I decided to stop being a coward. 

“About that night at the CDC,” I began, stomach twisting, but Daryl cut me off. “I was just lit, and pissed at ya again for bringin’ up yer job. I didn . . . it was fucked up to say that. To do that.” “Yeah,” I said, pressing my freezing hands to my cheeks trying to will away the blush, “I don’t know why I was . . . you always seem to get me off balance. Believe it or not, I used to be very composed and professional all the time.” 

"I believe it," he muttered. Silence fell again, but I could tell he was working his way up to something. "Y’skipped graduation,” he said finally, and I huffed out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Ironic to work your ass off so you'd be valedictorian and then fake a stomach bug so you don't get to celebrate it. Didn’t really want to make my speech and get booed off the stage, or have my parents see what I'd been dealing with. I heard someone tagged the stage with a nice phrase about me though.” 

Ugh, that had just slipped out. I hadn’t _heard_ anything – I’d walked by the football field early the next morning, just to imagine what it might have been like to make my speech and get my diploma in front of a crowd and seen the “Laine Jones is a cunt,” sprayed across the backdrop of the temporary stage they’d put up for the ceremony. What kind of administration doesn’t even cover that up? 

“I didn’ know about that one until I got there,” he muttered, and I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter now.” I thought about the therapy sessions that I was still attending up until the outbreak and corrected myself. “I mean, it matters, but it doesn’t change anything. And I already knew who it was.” 

“Fuck,” he swore roughly, and I knew we were finally going to address it. “I didn’ know she’d take everything that far. But when I started joinin’ them in jus’ makin’ fun of ya a little, y’didn’ even seem mad. And then you’d look at me like y’understood and jus’ felt sorry for me and I was so fuckin pissed at ya fer that.” He swallowed hard before continuing and I bit down on my lip to keep from stopping him. 

I didn’t want to reopen all of these wounds that I’d carefully sewn up. I’d guarded the worst of them even when I saw him again, even in my confessions to Andrea and during our painful talk at the CDC. But I’d been through enough counseling to know that eventually, it would be better to have gotten it out, despite the agony of the process. 

“I didn’ really wanna do any of it,” he said, but I let out a bitter laugh at that and he backtracked. “Fuck, obviously hookin’ up with a bunch a girls wasn’ some kinda torture but it wasn’ somethin’ I woulda done normally. Just wanted to make ya as angry as I was. And I knew they’d talk, throw it in yer face, but ya still jus’ kept comin’ ta class and holdin’ yer head up like nothin’ got to ya.” He got quiet after that, and I decided to rip the band-aid off. 

“So you set it up,” I prompted, and he blew out a long breath. “Damn, I fuckin’ miss cigarettes. Yeah. I’d seen ya out there readin’ every afternoon so I asked her ta meet me there.” 

It was still crystal clear in my memory. My only peace had been the afternoons when I got home from the utter torture of school and took my latest literary escape out to the woods. I always sat under the same tree, which I’d thought of as “our tree,” up until everything fell apart. I was lost in thought, carrying my blanket, book, and a bottle of lemonade, so I didn’t see them until I was almost there. He was leaning against the tree, head tilted back and eyes closed, and Sarah Stevens was on her knees in front of him, mouth around his cock. 

She was the worst of the bunch, the head of the meanest clique, who had instantly disliked me and had been torturing me since the day I arrived. She’d hated it when Daryl started hanging out with me and telling everyone to lay off, and she’d latched onto him as soon as he turned on me, wrapping herself around him at lunch and smiling at me over his shoulder when I accidentally looked their direction. 

The bottle had slipped out of my hand and cracked against a fallen log, and she’d turned her head at the noise. I could still hear her laughing and the triumph in her voice as she’d straightened up clutching at Daryl’s arm. “Oh my _god_! Were you getting off on _watching?_ You are so pathetic. You know he doesn’t want you, right? Like he’d literally fuck anyone but you?” Daryl had just stared at me over her head, eyes colder than I’d ever seen them. 

It had finally broken me. I’d been going to school day after day, putting up with all of the whispers, the shoves into the wall in the crowded hallways, books slapped out of my hands, nasty notes slipped to me during class. The janitor had given up cleaning the Sharpie off my locker, usually just variations on “Laine Jones takes it in the ass” or “Laine Jones sucks her daddy’s cock.” Daryl had been screwing as many girls as possible, and they’d intentionally described it in lurid detail within earshot of me. I told myself I just had to make it a few months until graduation, and then I never had to see any of them again, and that the things they were saying might not be true. I _did_ hold my head up, as Daryl had said, and pretended it didn’t bother me, for weeks. 

But that moment shattered all my resolve, and I knew he saw it completely naked on my face before I whirled around and ran back to the house, Sarah’s peals of laughter echoing behind me. There were two weeks until graduation at that point, and I’d gotten to class late every day, barely slipping in with the bell, hid in the bathrooms at lunch, and stopped raising my hand to answer questions. If it hadn’t been for the chaos of the end of the year, it probably would have brought them down on me even harder, but they were blessedly distracted by all the preparations and I was able to stay fairly invisible. 

I’d never gone back into the woods after that day. I begged my parents to let me participate in the summer honors program for freshmen at UVA and they’d agreed, so I left for college just a few weeks after school ended and I’d only been back once, for my mother’s funeral that October. I didn’t even stay the night, a move which I later realized must have hurt my father a lot, but he was so lost in his own grief that he never mentioned it. He moved my grandmother to an assisted living facility in Camden immediately afterward, until she passed away a few months later, and then I’d had to put him in their memory care unit a couple of years ago. 

“It must have gotten the reaction you were hoping for,” I said finally, pulling myself back to the present. “You seemed less angry after that, anyway.” It had been part of the reason I’d been able to slip under the radar, I realized, though it had pissed Sarah off. She’d defaced the graduation stage, without a doubt. 

“Never wanted ta take anything back so much,” he muttered. “Soon as I saw yer face. Jesus, I’ve done some bad shit over the years but what I did to you . . . that was the worst.” I turned myself away in case he could see the tears in the dark, but let them run down my face freely, chest clenched to keep quiet. I needed it – needed to let some of the emotion out that I’d held for so long. Oh, I’d cried about it in therapy, but hearing him acknowledge how goddamn horrible he’d been was something I hadn’t ever expected to hear, and I was overwhelmed. 

Daryl had always been fine with avoiding emotions, but for some reason, he couldn’t just let me be in that moment. I felt his hand on my back, and shrugged it off, stepping further away but he followed and turned me toward him. Like we had on the farm, he wrapped his arms around me and I cried, but this time I was crying over him, the boy who'd broken my heart and stomped on it a lifetime ago and was now a man who wanted to comfort me. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he was whispering against my hair. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Lainey.” I’d never heard those words come out of his mouth to anyone, for anything. Apologizing wasn’t something a Dixon did, but of course, neither was self-sacrifice or caring and Daryl had gotten pretty good at those. 

I cried myself out eventually and stepped away from him, embarrassed at how much I’d fallen apart. “Sorry, your shirt’s a mess,” I said awkwardly, trying to dry it off with the blanket I’d dropped. He batted my hands away, “Don’ fuckin’ care. Look, Lainey,” he rubbed the back of his neck and I cut him off. “Daryl, can we leave it for tonight? It’s been kind of a lot and I think I need to sleep. But I know there’s more to sort out, and I need to say some stuff too, at some point.” He nodded and stepped aside so I could head back to the house. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, the response to the last chapters was fascinating. Many of you don't think Laine could ever forgive Daryl after the bullying. IRL I work with juvenile delinquents and foster kids and parents (lots of overlap between those categories), and spend lots of time looking at the way trauma affects behavior, and how people can heal from it. Maybe that gives me a bias toward forgiving an abused kid acting out, and I appreciated the other perspectives. Anyway, here comes more about Daryl's side of things.

I’d passed out almost immediately after our talk and slept so soundly Lori had to shake me awake the next morning. I’d taken a look in the mirror while brushing my teeth and realized my eyes were still rimmed with red from my long crying jag, but I felt lighter than I had in ages. Lori and Carol both asked me if I was okay, but I was able to reassure them with a genuine smile that seemed to satisfy their need to mother me. 

Daryl had brought up the private school idea to Rick that morning, and he was suddenly a man with a mission and more energy than he’d had in weeks. He grilled me on my theories about walkers breaking down, and Daryl showed him the area the school was rumored to be on the map. It would take us at least a week to get there, we estimated, if we could use vehicles. That meant finding cars with gas, siphoning gas, etc. and we needed to find food and shelter along the way. 

We mapped out the most likely route that would keep us away from highly populated areas, but provide enough abandoned vehicles for the fuel we needed. Food was in short supply, and we had to stop and scavenge more than we wanted to in order to find enough to keep us going, so the week turned into two. Despite the challenges, however, we were all in better spirits now that we had a plan. 

I could tell Daryl was trying to avoid our old stomping ground as we got closer. He’d insisted that going up via the western route would be more direct, but we ran into a herd that pushed us east, and he couldn’t avoid it. It was almost dusk, we’d had to move fast to get away, and the cars were all running on fumes when we pulled over, just outside of Pineville. 

“Alright, we’ve gotta regroup,” Rick said. “Daryl, maybe we should scout ahead an’ see if there’s a place we can hole up.” Daryl’s back was to the group as he stared toward town, and he shook his head before turning around. “Lainey, you okay with it?” he asked, defeated. I could feel Rick’s curiosity as Daryl asked me to decide, but I didn’t feel like explaining. “I can handle it,” I said. “Let’s try my grandma’s house. Plenty of room, if it’s still standing.” 

I walked ahead with Daryl in silence, ignoring the murmured conversation of the group as they realized we were heading to our old town, and thought about how awful it was that it bothered him more than me to be back here. My torture had been at the hands of stupid teenagers, but his had been by someone who was supposed to love and protect him, and I was pretty sure he’d never had the apology and cathartic cry I’d gotten the other day to help him heal. 

The streets were more or less deserted, but a few walkers staggered across the open sports fields when we passed the high school. The concrete building looked so much smaller than I remembered, and less ominous despite the cracked windows and likelihood that there were bodies scattering the halls. My grandmother’s house was on a dirt road off the main drag just past the grocery store, and my feet seemed to be on autopilot as we made the familiar trek. 

It had been left relatively unharmed, though there wasn’t any food, so we set up camp, and Maggie and Glenn managed to scrounge up some cans of soup from a nearby house. We were all exhausted and fell asleep quickly except for Rick, who was on watch, and Daryl and me. 

I wandered through the empty rooms, cataloging the changes and the things I’d just forgotten. Technically it still belonged to my dad, but he’d rented it out periodically and it had fallen into disrepair so there were a few holes in the wall, cupboard doors hanging off the hinges, and broken windows. I ended up in my old room, looking out over the backyard and the woods, and I knew without looking that Daryl was standing behind me. 

“Wanna go fer a walk?” he asked, and I hesitated. “Not in the woods,” he added, “jus’ down the road.” He must have already told Rick, because he didn’t ask when we slipped by him down the driveway, and I realized halfway there that we were going to his old house. I’d only been there a handful of times, since Daryl always preferred to hang out elsewhere, and his dad scared me. I hadn’t known enough to read the signs for what they were initially, but I didn’t like the way he looked at me or the way he talked to Daryl, and I’d been more than happy to stay away as much as possible. 

When we got to his old trailer, Daryl stopped and just stared at it, lost in his own thoughts for a while before speaking. “He died a couple a years ago. Merle had ta come clean out all his shit. Seemed wrong ta be glad someone was dead but fuck, I just wished it hadn’ taken so long.” He put a bolt through a lone walker that staggered out from behind the building, and then opened the door, banging on the side of the trailer to draw out any that might be hiding. 

Whoever had lived here most recently must have abandoned it before things got too bad. It was filthy, but the normal kind, full of cigarette butts, stained carpet, and food waste, not rotting flesh. Daryl rummaged through the cupboards looking for food and found a few cans that we tucked away. He wandered through the rooms for a minute and I wondered if he was doing the same thing I had been. When he went out the back door I knew where he was headed and waited inside so he could banish those ghosts without an audience. His father’s favorite place to hit him, I had learned, was out by the still behind the house, where he made moonshine. 

Daryl took his time, and I could hear breaking glass occasionally, but eventually, he came back in with a crate of booze and threw it on the table. “Wanna drink, for old time’s sake?” It was a little fucked up, but so was everything about the situation so I grabbed a jar and poured a measure of the clear liquid. My first drink had been from this still, though I’d spit it out immediately while Daryl laughed at me. 

I swallowed this one, and Daryl raised an eyebrow over his own glass. “Impressive,” he rasped, “but I miss that prissy look on yer face.” I rolled my eyes, “I was seventeen, for fucks sake. I’d never even had a beer! Do you know it took me until I was 25 before I tried hard alcohol? I thought it all tasted like this.” Daryl’s half-grin crinkled his eyes as he took another sip and slid down to sit against the wall next to me. 

I couldn't be in this place any longer without knowing the answer to the question I'd had for thirteen years. “Was it really bad, when he got back after I called CPS?” I said, barely above a whisper. Daryl downed the rest of his drink and rested his head against the wall. “Yeah. I thought he was gonna tear down to the bone with the belt, but Merle got home, pulled him off me an’ stitched me up. Pa went on a bender after that for a week, but when he got back it was like even the sight a me pissed him off an’ he’d take it out on me constantly. Ended up sleepin’ in the woods half the time jus’ ta stay away from ‘im.” 

“I’m sorry,” I half-sobbed. “I didn’t understand anything about evidence or documentation and I naively thought that if I just told them what was happening to you, they’d believe me and make it stop. That night you told me, I couldn’t stop crying and my mom came to see what was the matter, and it all came spilling out.”

Daryl was tense next to me, but just grabbed another jar and refilled our glasses. “Deep down I think I knew ya didn’ do it ta hurt me, but you were the firs’ person I trusted with it and it felt like ya turned right around and betrayed me. Kept imaginin’ you tellin’ people how pathetic I was just a couple hours after I finally worked up the courage to talk about it. Couldn’ see it any other way ‘til a lot later. An’ with the beatin’, I couldn’ even get outta bed for a few days, an’ then it hurt like hell for weeks afterward, remindin’ me about what happened every time I moved. Jus’ didn’ know how ta deal with all of it, an’ I took it out on you. Ain’t an excuse but it’s the truth.” 

“Are they still there?” I asked quietly, and he tugged his shirt over his head and let me see. I ran my fingers over the faded lines, and leaned my cheek against his back, wrapping my arms around him. “I wanted to keep him from hurting you, and this is what I did to you instead,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.” 

He gently pried my arms away and turned around, wiping tears off my face. “You didn’t do anythin’ ta me, Lainey, ‘cept try ta help. I shouldn’a asked you to keep that secret, I jus’ didn’t understand all that at the time. An’ if I’d told the truth maybe they would’ve taken him away, who knows. But I was afraid of bein’ put in the system and I was so close ta getting’ outta there I just clammed up, told ‘em nothin’ ever happened and I’d told a girl some sob story to try an get laid.” 

I rested my head on his shoulder and took another sip, wondering about what could have been. For a long time, I’d struggled to figure out why Daryl hadn’t told the CPS workers the truth about his dad and had been angry at me instead of the man who’d abused him, but after years of working in the system, I understood it, at least a little. Even kids who sufferer tremendous abuse at the hands of their parents will choose to return to them because the abuse itself creates a bond between them that’s difficult to break. That wasn’t Daryl’s fault, any more than the children I tried to advocate for in court, who hated me for taking them away from their abusive parents.

“Found somethin’ else,” Daryl said after a few minutes and pulled out a mostly empty pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He held one out to me and I took it, dragging hard when he got it lit. “Damn, it’s been a long time,” I said, coughing slightly. Daryl had smoked ever since I’d known him, and I’d tried a few cigarettes in the hopes that it would impress him, always terrified I’d get addicted. Later, I’d learned an occasional smoke gave me just the right amount of nostalgia without too much pain, and I’d allowed myself one every once in a while when I was drunk. 

By the time we finished our cigarettes and drained our glasses, we were pretty buzzed, and when I leaned my head on Daryl’s shoulder and told him we should “just burn the fuckin’ place to the ground,” I was mostly joking. To my surprise, he started tossing the moonshine over the floor and went to get more when he ran out. We doused the place, then made a makeshift Molotov cocktail and tossed it in the door. It went up quickly, flames snapping at the filthy curtains within a few minutes. I leaned back against him as we watched from the street for a while, and he wrapped an arm around me, resting his chin on my head. 

“When’d ya get so short?” he asked, easing the melancholy mood, and I elbowed him in the ribs. “Shut it. Not everyone got a growth spurt after high school.” He was laughing quietly, a sound I hadn’t heard in years, and he tugged on my ponytail affectionately before turning to leave. 

We walked back down the road, but skipped the turnoff to the house and headed into town. We got to the high school again and he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling softly. “I lived in this shithole town from the time my Ma died when I was six, ‘til I graduated, and you were the only good thing that ever happened to me here. I used ta think about what woulda happened if I hadn’ fucked it up so bad; maybe we coulda fixed it, figured shit out.” 

I wasn’t sure if he meant ‘friendship’ shit or ‘romance’ shit, but it didn’t really matter. “But then I looked ya up after a few years,” he continued, stuffing his hands in his pockets and scuffing his shoe on the pavement. “An I saw ya graduated with a fuckin’ list of honors next ta yer name, got into law school. Kept lookin’ ya up ever’ once in a while, mostly when I was lit, saw ya got a job in th'attorney general’s office.” 

“Found ya on Facebook,” here his eyes slid toward me, half smiling, “thought maybe ya’d have kids’r somethin’ I guess, but ya looked happy in yer pictures. And eventually, I thought maybe it was better like that. If we’d figured our shit out, maybe it woulda kept ya from doin’ some a that stuff. Wouldn’a gone ta school early, mighta come home in the summer instead a travelin’, or doin’ whatever the fuck ya did ta get all those awards. Wouldn’ a wanted that.” 

I thought of lonely nights at UVA when I didn’t know anyone and was just running away from a broken heart; of Costa Rica one semester abroad when I’d lived with a lovely family that took me in as a daughter; of the slowly growing confidence that came when I surrounded myself with people who valued my work ethic and intelligence; of Andrea and Amy’s Saturday morning pancakes; of satisfying trial outcomes and a thriving career; of crying by myself after I put my father into the nursing home; and falling asleep alone every night. 

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “I missed you, through all of it. You were the first friend I made on my own, really. We moved around so much, and I was so shy, that I pretty much just lived vicariously through my books until I met you. So, whenever I did something that I was proud of or had some great experience, a tiny part of me wanted to tell you about it. But you’re right – I wouldn’t have done everything, or maybe I would have tried to get you to come to visit me in Charlotte, and you probably would’ve hated that. Doesn’t matter now though.” 

He nodded in agreement and twined his fingers through mine as we walked back to the house. Rick was watching the smoke from the trailer rise over the trees and jerked his head toward it as we passed. “That your work?” he asked curiously. “Needed ta burn some old shit,” Daryl replied curtly, holding open the door for me, and I was pretty sure Rick understood what he meant. 


	10. Chapter 10

I woke up when Daryl pulled his arm off me, and realized I’d slept next to him for the first time, after our little arson-filled evening, and ended up curled against him. Lori sniffed as I walked by and wrinkled her nose. “Sweetheart, you smell like a smoky dive bar,” she said with a small smile. I washed quickly and pulled on clean(er) clothes, noticing I’d spilled a little more moonshine on my shirt than I’d realized the night before. I also had a headache, and eagerly downed the bottle of water Daryl threw me, wishing we had something for breakfast. 

We found enough cars in town that still had gas for a good half tank in each of our vehicles, and Daryl thought that should get us to the school. We wound our way through the back roads heading west and eventually saw signs for the tiny town that supposedly housed the students’ wealthy parents when they came to visit. Sure enough, the town was about as opposite of where we’d come as you could get, full of locally sourced gift shops, boutiques, and at least two nice-looking restaurants. It was as deserted as Pineville, but the natural food store was still well-stocked and we scarfed down organic energy bars and loaded the cars with everything we could carry. 

Signs for the school were clearly marked all the way through town, and it wasn’t long before we reached the gates, at the top of a steep road. They were locked, and a high stone wall ran out from each side, curving gently as it encircled the campus. 

Our biggest fear was that it had already been discovered by a hostile group, like Randall’s, or one that wouldn’t let us join them, but there was no sign of anyone guarding the gates or wall, so Daryl found a tree and climbed high enough to look over. He dropped down and an honest-to-goodness smile flashed on his face briefly. “There’s walkers, but no sign of anyone stayin’ here. They’re pretty spread out over the lawns, an’ I think we can draw ‘em out here gradually if we can get the gates open.” 

The lock was electronic, so eventually Daryl just climbed the tree again and jumped to the top of the wall, then down the other side to find the mechanism that opened it. To everyone’s surprise, the gates creaked open immediately, and we saw Daryl next to a small keypad, still staring at it in shock. “I think it’s solar,” he said incredulously. “No other reason fer it ta jus’ work like that. A generator’d make more noise.” 

We could see the once-manicured lawns, now wildly overgrown, spreading out toward the big stone edifice of the main building. Wide paved paths wound through the lawns to the stables on the right and some sort of low outbuilding to the left. As Daryl had said, there were at least a dozen walkers stumbling around the open space, and they were now headed our way. He took out several with bolts before they reached us, and Rick used some of our precious ammunition to get a few more. T-Dog, Glenn, Maggie, and I each took out a couple with our knives, and we dragged all the bodies outside the gates, leaving them open for a quick escape. None of us acknowledged the fact that the walkers were mostly teenagers, and Lori kept Carl back pretty far.

We decided to clear the outbuildings first, since they were smaller, and save the main house for the end. There were only a couple of walkers in the stables, along with some incredibly smelly rotting horses, and we quickly shut the doors on those. The other building held a bunch of town cars and a big Sprinter van that had ostensibly been used to transport the students. A couple of walkers were locked in a small office, but other than that it was empty. That left the main house, and whatever lay behind it. We circled it first, making sure nothing could get out, and then followed the paths that sloped around and behind it, down to a lake. Scattered across the grass were several small cottages that must have housed staff or possibly guests. Since it was almost evening, we decided to clear them out and sleep there, rather than tackling the bigger building right away. 

It didn’t take long – it seemed that most of the students and staff had left when the outbreak started. Almost all of the cottages were empty and blessedly free of the smell of rotting flesh. We gathered at a campfire ring toward the lake after a little more exploring and dug into canned stew in good spirits. Daryl and Glenn had pulled the cars inside the gates and shut them again after we’d finished clearing the property, so we were safely ensconced in the high walls. The lake was manmade, and we could see that the walls ran along the back of it, so we were truly surrounded. “Thank fuckin’ god for paranoid rich parents,” Daryl had muttered, earning him a reprimand from Herschel and a snort of agreement from the rest of us. 

The cottages had running water and electricity, and the solar panels covering the south-facing field confirmed Daryl’s suspicion. I claimed a cottage and turned on the lights, blinking in the harshness, before shutting them off again. It was foolish, but I wasn’t used to the glare, and I snapped on a side lamp instead, its softer light enough for me to brush my teeth and wash my face. There was a queen-sized bed, small table and chairs, and a little sitting area with a bookshelf and coffee table next to the loveseat. A kitchenette with a single burner, microwave, and small fridge was in one corner, and I looked longingly at the coffeemaker. 

I shook out the slightly dusty comforter, but the sheets appeared clean, and I sat on the edge of the bed and finally let it sink in. We’d found a safe place, just for us, where we could build a real home. We had supplies for the time being, and plenty of land to raise our own food for the future. There was, beyond my wildest dreams, even solar power so we wouldn’t have to cook everything over a campfire and take cold showers – the thought of a hot shower cut my thoughts short and got me off my ass, and I flipped on the hot tap eagerly. When the water began to steam, I almost cried with joy. I showered for a long time, unable to get enough of the warmth running over me, but eventually, I shut it off and sighed happily before pulling on a big t-shirt over my bra and underwear. I’d been sleeping fully dressed for months but I felt safe enough to be more comfortable tonight. 

I exited the bathroom and stopped short at the sight of Daryl flipping through a book at the table. He’d clearly had the same idea as me and his hair was still damp. “Hi,” I said, very aware of my bare legs, and his gaze flicked to them once before he muttered, “Hi,” and I thought I saw a tinge of red in his cheeks in the low light. “I can’t believe there’s hot water,” I said happily, squeezing my damp hair with a towel. “This is more than I ever thought we’d find. _So_ much more. There’s space for absolutely anything we want to do. And the lake might even have fish, and I’m really hoping there’s a library somewhere in that big house.” 

He nodded, worrying at the inside of his cheek, and I stopped rambling. “Are you okay?” I asked, trying to read his face. He’d seemed happy earlier. He pulled one of the chairs out from the table and sat in it heavily, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Need ta tell ya one more thing, jus’ so we can put ever’thin’ behind us. Shoulda told ya last night, but I couldn’ figure out how.” 

“Okay,” I said nervously, sitting on the edge of the bed and tugging the hem of my shirt down with my fingers. “I’m listening.” I wondered if Sarah fucking Stevens had ended up having Daryl’s kid, or even married to him. I’d never pressed him for details on what he’d done all that time we were apart, and though I’d done my fair share of Googling, I never found any trace of him online. But it stood to reason he’d have had plenty of formative experiences and relationships over thirteen years, some of which could be serious.

“At the CDC, I said I always knew what ya wanted,” he began, and I flushed hotly thinking of how he’d humiliated me. “An’ that was true. You _were_ a shit liar, but you also jus’ didn’ hide what ya were thinkin’ or feelin’. I liked that, the way yer whole body fidgeted when ya got excited, or ya laughed like it didn’ matter if anybody heard. An’ I never knew how ta do that – how ta let someone see what I was thinkin’, let ‘em know that ‘bout me. S’why ya didn’ know about my dad sooner, how I kept people from knowin’ what was goin’ on. But I also didn’ tell ya other stuff.”

He scrubbed a hand through his hair and finally looked up at me. “I wanted ya so much I couldn’ breathe sometimes,” he said hoarsely. “And even though I knew y’felt the same way, I couldn’ tell ya just in case you changed yer mind and threw it back in my face. That day, when I finally kissed ya, I was fuckin’ terrified but I was tryin’ ta change, ta trust you. An’ I know it don’ matter now, but I jus’ didn’t want ya to think it was all one-sided like I made it seem at the CDC.” 

“I don’t understand why you could trust other people, but not me,” I said quietly, after processing that for a minute. He’d been so hesitant with me, and then completely confident making out with Sarah against the lockers when I walked by. Daryl’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What’re ya talking about? I didn’ trust other people; never have. After everything that happened with you, I jus’ stopped tryin’.” I didn’t think he was lying, exactly, but it didn’t add up. “Daryl, you were with lots of girls afterward, and presumably since then. If it was so hard to let me in, why was it easy with them?” 

His face cleared and he looked slightly incredulously at me. “Ya mean sex? That didn’ have anythin’ ta do with _trustin’_ anyone. Shit, casual sex is easy.” I chewed on my lip, processing this, and feeling slightly out of my depth. “Not for everyone,” I finally admitted, fiddling with my hem again. “Always seemed like it involved a lot of trust for me.” 

He studied me pensively for a moment. “Y’never just hooked up with someone?” I shifted uncomfortably, trying not to feel defensive. “Something wrong with that?” I asked, and he shook his head quickly. “Fuck, no. Jus’ figured there’d be a lotta that at parties or whatever when you were in college.” 

“I didn’t have a lot of confidence at that point, after what had happened in Pineville," I admitted, “it took me a long time to come out of my shell and make friends, get comfortable enough to even go to a party. Part of me kept waiting for everyone to start laughing at me, so letting my guard down enough to casually lose my virginity was out of the question. But I didn’t meet anyone I wanted to date either, and I was really focused on my studies so I just kind of ignored the whole thing.”

“The last semester of my junior year, I studied abroad in Costa Rica. I lived with a really great family who had a daughter and son around my age, and the son would always flirt with me but I think it was against the rules to get involved or something. The night before I left, he came into my room and . . . he was really sweet, especially once he figured out it was my first time, and he didn’t make me feel like it was weird to be so inexperienced at 21.”

I finally looked at Daryl, but he was back to sitting with his elbows on his knees, eyes on the floor. “Anyway, I’ve had a couple of short relationships since then, so it’s not like I haven’t had sex, I just didn’t ever feel relaxed about it enough to be with someone I didn’t trust.” There was silence for a bit, until he finally looked up, eyes burning with intensity. “Would you’ve trusted me, back then, before I hurt you?” 

My heart was thumping furiously, but I’d never been a coward. I stood and walked toward him until I was standing between his legs. “Yes, in a heartbeat. And I trust you now. That night at the CDC, you were wrong about me. I’m never that . . . easy, with anyone else. No one’s made me feel like that, and you weren’t even really touching me.” 

His fingers were already skimming just under the hem of my shirt, along my thighs, but he stilled them and looked at me nervously. “Don’ know why you’d give me a second chance,” he said shakily, “but I promise I won’t waste it.” One corner of my mind worried that sex might be that final piece that would let him close the box on our whole messed up history, but I wanted him enough to take the risk. He traced along the curve where my thigh met my ass and then tugged me down to straddle him. Suddenly face-to-face, I remembered the only time he’d ever kissed me, and the thousands of times I’d wanted him to. 

He must have seen it in my face, because he pulled me closer, his big hands spanning my ribcage, and whispered, “Jesus, I thought about kissing ya all the fuckin’ time. Still do.” I shivered at his breath against my ear, and then the sensation as his lips moved down the column of my neck, breathing me in and pressing kisses along my clavicle. I couldn’t wait any longer, and cupped my hand under his jaw, tilting his head up so I could capture his mouth with my own. 

He was gentle, right at first, his hand in my hair in an echo of the last time, but as soon as my tongue sought entrance to his mouth, we shifted from teenage hesitancy into the deeper needy heat of adults who’ve waited long enough and know what they want. His mouth and hands were everywhere, pushing up under my shirt to palm my breasts, grabbing my ass and rocking me against him, sucking at the junction of my neck and shoulder, moving back to my lips, until I was desperate for more. 

“Bed,” I finally gasped, and he carried me across the room and laid me down on it, kicking off his boots and tugging his shirt over his head before stretching himself out over me. The brief pause slowed his pace, and he began exploring my body with his mouth, pushing my shirt up to kiss my stomach, along the waistband of my panties, up my ribs. I finally pulled it over my head, feeling a little self-conscious as he looked down at me, but he muttered, “Jesus Lainey, yer beautiful,” and sucked at my nipple through the thin fabric of my bra, chasing any doubt from my brain. 

I gasped as he tugged the cup down, swirling his tongue around my hardened peak, and I arched into him, seeking friction. He rocked into me, swearing under his breath, and reached around to unclasp my bra, tossing it to the floor. I was pretty sure I was going to combust from the feel of his mouth and teeth on my sensitive nipples, and fumbled desperately at the buttons on his pants, panting incoherently. 

He pulled them off quickly, and I wrapped my legs around him as soon as they were off, moaning at the feel of his hard length against my center as his mouth found mine again. When he moved it back to my breasts, his fingers slipped under my panties and explored my wet folds. I whimpered quietly, “please, Daryl,” and he slipped two fingers into me, thumb sliding along my clit. 

His fingers pumping inside me and slipping over the exact place I used to touch when I thought about him sent me into my climax in just a few minutes. My hips arched off the mattress, rocking against his fingers and I cried out his name, clamping a hand over my mouth to muffle it. 

He pulled my hand away and murmured, “Wanna hear ya,” as I rode out the last waves of my orgasm. He pulled his fingers from my panties and licked the juices off them, then kissed me so I could taste myself on his lips. I could feel him, rock hard against my leg, and slid my hand down to stroke him over his boxers. His hips moved in response, but he pulled back, searching my face. “Don’ have ta do anything else,” he said carefully, “I can wait, an jus’ make ya feel good tonight.” 

I shook my head and smiled at him. “Maybe if I was 17. But my 31-year-old body really wants you inside me.” I didn’t have to ask twice – his boxers were off and he was easing my panties over my hips before I could blink. It had been a really, really long time and I savored the sensation of him sliding inside me, filling me up, and my body stretching to accommodate him. 

He buried his head in the crook of my neck and muttered, “Jesus Christ, gonna need a sec,” regaining control before he began thrusting. I’d been with three men total, each of them sweet enough to make sure I enjoyed myself too, but I had never felt like this. Fourteen years of waiting probably contributed, but the waves of pleasure each time he pushed back into me were beyond what I’d ever imagined. This was why people were obsessed with sex, this consuming need for more of him, faster, harder, deeper. I wanted him to make me feel like this every second for the rest of my life, and I was sure I would never need anything else to sustain me. I had no idea what I sounded like, half-coherent words mixed with moans, but he was in a similar state. “Fuck, Lainey . . . so goddamn good . . .” 

I met his every thrust, taking him a deeply as I could, until I lost control and fell apart, my walls clenching around him. Another few seconds and he pulled out, spilling onto my stomach with a low curse. “Jesus,” he panted, “Didn’ realize ‘til the last second that I hadn’ used a condom. Stopped thinkin’ straight a soon as ya touched me.”

“Do you even have condoms?” I asked. He shook his head, “Sure as fuck gonna find some now, though.” I went to the bathroom and cleaned up, then slipped back into bed and reached for my shirt. 

“Why d’ya need that?” Daryl asked, pulling it out of my hands gently, and I shrugged self-consciously but tossed it on the floor and laid down next to him. I’d always gone home after sex, or sent my partner home, uncomfortable with the thought of someone seeing me completely relax, but we’d been sleeping as a group for so long that it now seemed like a silly thing to worry about. 

He slid his hand across my stomach and gripped my hip to tug me tighter into him, leaving it there so he could trace the jutting outline of the bone with his thumb. I was sleepy, but not enough to prevent me from running my hands over his chest, feeling the muscles tense slightly as I touched them, then traced my fingers along his biceps. “These are impressive,” I whispered teasingly, “though I liked your arms even when you were skinnier.” 

He dipped his head and pressed a lazy kiss to the swell of my breast. “Could say the same thing about certain parts a you too,” he said, “not that I ever got under yer shirt back then, but I stared at ‘em enough times that I’m pretty sure I knew exactly how big they were.” I laughed and swatted his head lightly. “Perv.” 

“Yup,” he said without hesitation. “I was a horny teenage boy, thought about ya naked pretty much every second of the day. Even . . . I don’t know, maybe it was wrong, but even later, I’d still think about ya sometimes.” “Me too,” I whispered. “I’d never gotten myself off before, until I met you. I tried not to, afterward, but I never found any fantasy that worked quite as well so sometimes I’d give in.” 

I’d known it was unhealthy and brought it up with my therapist, but she didn’t seem too worried. “People fantasize about all kinds of things they wouldn’t necessarily do in real life,” she’d said. I wondered what her take would be now. I’d thought about it over the past few weeks, as Daryl and I had gradually pulled down the walls between us, wondering if I was just falling for my abuser like a million women before me. 

But he’d just been a kid, traumatized and abused for so long he had no concept of how to deal with his feelings, and lashing out because he’d been literally and figuratively wounded by my actions. Time and maturity had brought intense regret and healed some of his woundedness, and now our survival experiences had shaped him into someone who knew what he felt and had trusted me enough to share it. I’d forgiven him, and we were creating new memories to replace the bad ones, a little at a time.


End file.
